


Dance On Your Grave

by GloriousGoblinQueen



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: M/M, Other, Repaying Debt, Sex Toys, proxy sex, sex on a grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/pseuds/GloriousGoblinQueen
Summary: It's difficult to repay a debt to a dead man, but Dionysus finds a way. Or: an "elaboration" on the myth of Dionysus and Prosymnus.





	Dance On Your Grave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adspexi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adspexi/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I'm glad I got to learn about a Greek myth in the process.

After seeing his mother off to Olympus, Dionysus journeyed back to the village where he’d met the shepherd Prosymnus. The atmosphere seemed oddly subdued, and hardly anyone was out and about. _Perhaps this is a day of rest_ , he thought, even though he passed a couple of shops that were open for business. He finally came upon an older woman carrying what looked like a basket of flowers. He swiftly approached her and asked the way to Prosymnus’ residence.

“Oh, Prosymnus’ home was a fair walk away, near the outskirts of the village,” she said. “Though I suppose you’d still have a ways to go if you want to see him now.”

Dionysus frowned at that. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

The woman’s eyebrows went up. “You haven’t heard? Prosymnus passed away a few days ago. It was so sudden, and he was in the prime of his life, too.” She shook her head slowly, thinking about the man’s death. "Rumor has it that it was his heart, but I can’t believe it. That man was as healthy as an ox! If there were something wrong with him, surely it would have revealed itself before now.

“Anyway,” and here, Dionysus snapped back to attention, “he was laid to rest in the cemetery just outside the village limits. Are you intending on paying your respects?”

Dionysus’ mind had gone blank from shock, and it took a few moments for him to respond. “Yes,” he said finally. “He did an important favor for me, and I’m afraid I never got to thank him properly for it.”

The woman commended him on his kindness and excused herself to deliver her flowers. Dionysus hardly noticed, he was so deep in thought. Having no place else to be nor any pressing obligations, he made his way towards the cemetery where Prosymnus had, apparently, been laid to rest.

* * *

From the edge of the village, it wasn’t that far to the cemetery. Prosymnus’ tomb was relatively easy to find, being only a couple of rows back from the entrance.

Dionysus stood silently in front of the grave marker. As a god, he was not beholden to the same standards as mortals were. By all rights, he could forget his debt to Prosymnus and carry on as though it were nothing; after all, the man was dead and couldn’t collect his payment. Given the sort of payment Prosymnus had asked for, many would think it stranger if Dionysus _didn’t_ forget about his end of the bargain.

Yet, even as he considered the possibility of forgetting what he’d offered Prosymnus, he knew it wasn’t truly an option. His own sense of honor wouldn’t let him walk away from this without recompense. Of course, the problem lurked in his mind of exactly how to repay a man no longer around to collect what was owed him.

Suddenly, Dionysus was hit with inspiration.

* * *

The god of wine waited a couple of days before visiting Prosymnus’ burial site again, not wanting to risk being seen. Any other time, he wouldn’t have cared about having an audience, and might have even welcomed one. This occasion, however, felt strangely intimate, and he wished to be alone for it.

He made his way back to the tomb, the path clear in his mind. He dressed simply, not wanting extra clothing getting in the way, and brought with him only a jug of wine and a phallus he’d conjured from the branch of a fig tree. The jug was roughly the size of a man’s head, with a slender neck a few inches long to pour from and a small handle attached to it. It was made of a reddish clay, and bore no decoration of any kind. The phallus was nearly as plain, save for the ridges Dionysus had carved into it and the natural grain of the wood. He hoped the extra texturing would make this whole ordeal more pleasurable. Though he (regrettably) never got close enough to the shepherd to get any sort of measurement of his manhood, Dionysus had done his best to replicate what he believed to be a fairly sizable cock, taking into consideration Prosymnus’ height and build. Prosymnus had been roughly a head taller than him, and was built for a life of working the land and leading beasts of burden around; surely he had a cock to match.

Dionysus wasted no time climbing atop the stone tomb. He settled himself near the head of the structure and laid out his belongings before him near the foot. He made the stone more comfortable to rest upon, thinking aloud to himself as he went.

“What nerve,” he said, “to hold me to such a bargain and not keep your end of it.” The stone surface smoothed and softened beneath his hands wherever he touched. “And you certainly had the better end of it! Though I suppose it can’t be helped. Such a tragic affair, how briefly mortals walk upon this land.” When he finished, he sat back down and regarded Prosymnus solemnly. He knew nothing of the man save that he enabled Dionysus to get to his mother in Hades. That alone, he figured, should tell him all he needed to know about the man’s nature.

He reached for the wine jug and phallus and began to tip the jug over. What he poured from the vessel was not wine, but a viscous oil, and he let it generously spill over the phallus. It coated the wood, lending it a beautiful sheen that enhanced it’s visual texture. He then set aside the enchanted jug and lay down on his bundled up clothing.

Dionysus let his legs fall open and rubbed the oil-slick tip against himself. As he prodded at his entrance, the thought occurred to him that this may have actually been more entertaining with an audience. He wasn’t new to engaging in carnal pleasures with only the ambient sounds of nature to keep him company, but it seemed not a single animal dared trespass that day. Fucking on top of a man’s final resting place, while exciting in theory, was shaping up a bit differently in reality. He circled the tip around and around his hole, almost bored, and let his mind wander, trying to imagine what it would be like to fraternize with the man, instead of a paltry facsimile. Then, he hit upon an idea.

It was simple enough to enchant the wooden toy, and it seemed to take on a life of its own. Cold, unyielding wood began to warm up and soften. The decorative ridges carved along the shaft morphed into a network of veins. As Dionysus held the transformed phallus, it even seemed to gently pulsate in his hand. Though it still looked to be made from wood, it thrummed with many of the life-signs of a real cock, and he delighted in his masterful sorcery.

Having gathered more oil, he sank the middle digit of his free hand into himself, slowly, and searched inside for that certain spot he’d hit upon many times in the past that would give him undeniable pleasure. The pad of his finger passed over it suddenly, and Dionysus shook head to toe with excitement. His own cock arched stiffly against his belly, flushed pink from engorgement. The head was a lurid reddish purple, swollen and peeking out from his foreskin. Wetness spread out from the slit and made the head shiny, and though both his hands were occupied, he couldn’t resist the need to touch himself. Not wanting to release his hold on the dildo, he instead lined it up with his cock, pressing both undersides together. He gave both pricks a squeeze and pressed against that spot inside himself once again, and his hips arched up as lightning-hot pleasure shot through him. It left him panting and seeing stars before his eyes. He paused to let himself calm down, and looked down to behold the sight of the elegant dildo pressed so intimately against his own hardness. It felt so warm and real against him, it was not difficult to imagine it was Prosymnus’ actual manhood pressed against him so. He could see it plain as day in his mind’s eye, in fact, Prosymnus grabbing him by the thighs and sliding their cocks together to rile them both up for the main event.

Dionysus pressed another finger, his index, into his slicked up hole and began working himself open. He moved them in and out, and all around, gradually opening up his entrance. He had to make sure he could actually take the dildo he’d made. Having no true account of Prosymnus’ size, he’d had to make a guess based on the man’s stature. Since the man himself was rather sizable in height and breadth, well, the facsimile of his manhood surely couldn’t be taken lightly.

Dionysus had broken out in a fine sweat, and was flushed across his bronze skin, by the time he’d loosened himself up to his liking. He pressed the blunt head of the phallus against his stretched hole, and the sensation was so much like that of a real cock, it was as if Prosymnus himself were lining up his cock, ready to push in at any moment. He closed his eyes and sank the toy in, inch by thick inch, picturing Prosymnus easing his hips forward until he and Dionysus met flesh to flesh.

Prosymnus would let his thick cock rest inside Dionysus for a moment, let him get used to the overwhelming girth before moving again. He would start slow, backing almost all the way out and teasing the wine god’s rim with just the first inch or so of his prick. Then, he would ease himself back in until he was pressed tight against that secret spot inside his lover. Over and over he’d fuck into Dionysus, gradually getting faster until he was pounding into the god like a beast in rut.

As good as sliding the enchanted dildo in and out of his ass was, it wasn’t quite good enough. Dionysus was caught up in a pleasure-induced madness, and in a fit, he cast the dildo base-first against the roof of the tomb he lay on. With his magic, he adhered it so that it stood up on its own, proud and ready to be of service. Dionysus wasted no time in getting to his knees and positioning himself over the phallus. Just to prolong his pleasure even more, he teased his rim with the head as Prosymnus might have done. He popped the head of the dildo in one last time and lowered himself until his ass nearly touched the stone roof of the tomb. He held still a few moments, relishing the warm, persistent throb of the phallus inside him.

He knew nothing of Prosymnus’ countenance, save that he had a calm yet unyielding nature. It had taken a few minutes’ deliberation with himself before Prosymnus decided to accept his request, and he’d been firm in his insistence on repayment.

“I’ll escort you, but only under one condition,” Prosymnus had said. He let his eyes trail down Dionysus’ lithe form, stopping at the deity’s thighs. “Let me in between those legs of yours, and I’ll show you pleasure you can only get from another man.”

One look into Prosymnus’ eyes had Dionysus agreeing enthusiastically.

Even now, Dionysus could see the man’s piercing gaze in his mind’s eye. He would reach up and grasp Dionysus’ waist with his work-roughened hands, holding him steady. He had a feeling the shepherd would make him do all the work, and Dionysus would have to plant his hands up somewhere around Prosymnus’ shoulders for leverage as he bounced himself on the man’s engorged cock. Oh, he would ride Prosymnus better than any whore, lewd moans forcing their way past his throat until he was nearly hoarse. He would have no choice but to clench around that fat cock buried so deeply inside of him every time it struck that incredible place inside his body. He could feel Prosymnus’ broad hands smoothing their way across his belly, his flushed thighs, grabbing the round globes of his ass, touching anywhere within reach.

Dionysus came long and loud, nearly screaming Prosymnus’ name. His hand darted down to aim his cock and leave and offering of his spend on the spot in front of him. He relaxed on his haunches and let the remains of his climax course through him. Periodically, his inner muscles would clench around the phallus lodged in him trying to milk it for seed it didn’t have. The wine god indulged himself a little further, imagining Prosymnus gazing at him fondly in the aftermath of his own completion.

Eventually, his body relaxed enough to release its grip, and the dildo slid out of him. Once he was clear-headed again, he redressed himself and picked up the jug and the dildo, which he’d returned to being ornate but lifeless wood. At the last moment, however, he laid the dildo down instead, near his previous offering.

“And there is my debt repaid, Prosymnus,” he said somewhat wistfully. “May your rest truly be peaceful, now.” With the next wind, Dionysus disappeared back to his home on Mount Olympus.


End file.
